


Rosemary and Thyme

by Suspicious_Popsicle



Series: College Town [8]
Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluri, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suspicious_Popsicle/pseuds/Suspicious_Popsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Actually written because my friend and I were joking that Flynn didn't have any friends.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Rosemary and Thyme

**Author's Note:**

> Actually written because my friend and I were joking that Flynn didn't have any friends.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

Flynn smiled to himself as he finished setting the table, making minute adjustments to the plates and wine glasses so that everything was perfect. He’d been planning this dinner for days, ever since he found out that Yuri had been granted a rare evening off. Yuri worked so hard all the time—three jobs, now that he had taken on those part time shifts with the campus coffee shop—and it would be nice to have a night where the two of them could just relax and enjoy each other’s company. Flynn had cooked dinner despite all the little notes Yuri had left around the kitchen to dissuade him (those _were_ the spices he’d been looking for, damn it). He’d cleaned the apartment, bought some wine, and even picked up a few candles to try and set the mood. 

Any minute now, and Yuri would be getting home from his classes at the community college. Flynn couldn’t help grinning about the surprise. Yuri would probably grump about how sappy it was, but Flynn was sure that somewhere deep down—deep, _deep_ down—Yuri probably enjoyed the occasional romantic gesture.

The oven timer went off, and he pulled out the chicken and checked the temperature. Perfect. The sides sat warm in their pots, and the wine was in the fridge, chilled. Restlessly, he wandered the apartment, fiddling needlessly with things he’d already cleaned and straightened earlier. Anticipation drew out the minutes, made him fret that the meal he’d worked so hard on might go cold.

Finally, he heard Yuri’s key in the lock. He straightened his shirt and went to greet him.

Yuri took two steps in and dropped his helmet and book bag next to the door.

“Welcome home.”

“Hey. Judy and I are going to Schwann’s. Wanna come?”

_What?_ “What?”

“Schwann’s—that bar over on Third. You know; friends, drinks, not staying cooped up with textbooks all night? You should come with.” He looked toward the kitchen suddenly, sniffing, then turned his attention back to Flynn. “Did you cook?”

“I….” Flynn felt things slipping out of his control. How was he supposed to plan a nice evening to surprise Yuri with if he was going to do unpredictable things like make plans with other people? “Can’t you go out another time?”

“Nope. I promised her my next free night weeks ago. Did you get into my spices?”

Sometimes Yuri was entirely too dense. Sighing, Flynn ran a hand over his face.

“Just go.”

“You should—”

“I’ve got homework to do. Get out of here and quit distracting me.”

Yuri scowled and started forward, always ready for a fight, but the situation was diffused by a honk from the parking lot below. Presumably, it was Judy, waiting for him.

Tossing one last glare at Flynn, Yuri turned to leave. “Don’t wait up,” he said and slammed the door behind himself.

Flynn took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There should be limits to how oblivious people could be. Yuri apparently hadn’t thought that maybe he should spend a little of his hard-won free time with his _boyfriend_. He hadn’t even noticed the table, or stopped to think about why Flynn would be cooking despite being practically forbidden to use the kitchen unsupervised. Flynn had half a mind to light the candles and let them burn down, let Yuri come home and see the perfect place settings and the uneaten meal and put the pieces together and realize what an ass he’d been.

In the end, he was too hungry to just let the food go to waste. He sat down at the table and had dinner alone. It wasn’t the worst chicken he’d ever cooked, but even if Yuri had spent the entire meal mocking his culinary skills, it still would have tasted better for the company. When he finished, he cleaned up his half of the table, leaving the candles and the untouched second place setting for Yuri to see whenever he came back. He put away the leftovers and the wine, washed the dishes, and retired to his room. He really did have homework to get done, that part hadn’t been a lie. It was just that he’d been willing to put off his responsibilities in favor of spending some time with Yuri.

He was in a bad mood for the rest of the evening and had no one to take it out on. When he went to bed, Yuri still hadn’t returned home.

\------------------------

Flynn barely saw Yuri over the next two days. He was too angry to care much about it Tuesday, but as Wednesday passed him by and Yuri didn’t come home between school and his third shift job as a janitor, Flynn started to feel a little guilty over how mad he’d been. Sure, Yuri had been thoughtless, but he was so busy all the time. He had the right to unwind in his own way. 

Sleep eluded Flynn that night. He tossed and turned until Yuri came home early Thursday morning. He heard the muffled sound of the door opening and closing, followed by the soft thump of Yuri’s book bag hitting the floor. He didn’t hear footsteps down the hall, but he heard the rush of water in the bathroom and the creak of Yuri’s bedroom door. After that, the apartment went silent again. 

He felt lonely and isolated, like the space between himself and Yuri was so much more than a few feet and a thin wall. He remembered sleepovers back when they were kids, when he could call out Yuri’s name in the dark and hear him answer back and neither of them had to worry about getting enough rest to stay awake through class or a third shift job. 

Not for the first time, Flynn realized that he had it easy. He’d worked hard to earn a full scholarship to a prestigious college, and now he only needed his part time campus library job for a few expenses and some extra spending cash. Yuri worked constantly to earn everything he had, and he never complained about it.

Sighing, Flynn pulled the sheets tighter around himself. He’d been unfair. He’d gotten mad at Yuri over something stupid, and avoided him while waiting for an apology that, in all likelihood, wasn’t coming even if he really did deserve it. The reality of the situation was that, for all Flynn knew, Yuri didn’t even know he was mad, and probably hadn’t even realized Flynn had been avoiding him. This wasn’t the first time they’d gone days without seeing each other despite sharing an apartment. There had been weeks before where Yuri’s schedule was too full for much more than a quick ‘good morning’ and ‘good bye’ each day.

It was a strange feeling, missing someone who lived in the next room. Flynn wondered what he could do to bridge the gap he felt growing between them until he finally drifted off to sleep.

\------------------------

Thursday was one of Yuri’s short days, meaning he would sleep in for a little while before going to the Y where he taught a beginners’ cooking class. After that, he had night classes. He wouldn’t be back until well after dinnertime, but at least Flynn would actually get to _see_ him. Hoping that they would even have a little time to talk, Flynn rushed through his homework. He ordered a pizza, too, trying to time it so that it would still be warm by the time Yuri got back, thinking he’d probably be glad for the food.

When he came home, Yuri tossed his bag and helmet carelessly against the wall. Flynn noted the noise they made, the crack of the helmet against the plaster and the thud of books on the floor and thought of how careful Yuri was to be quiet when he came in after working his third shift job.

“Welcome home. There’s pizza, if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks.” 

He grabbed a slice and a napkin and dropped to sit on the living room floor, across the small coffee table from where Flynn sat on the couch. They were quiet while he ate, and once he had finished, Yuri leaned back and grinned up at Flynn.

“Long time, no see.”

Relieved, Flynn smiled back. “It certainly feels like it. How was class?”

He shrugged, smirking. “Not as interesting as that discussion we had the other week.”

“You still owe me for that.”

“Oh, yeah? You gonna collect?”

Well. Flynn had wanted to talk, but it seemed like things were okay between them. He wasn’t about to complain, considering where this was headed.

“Your bed or mine?”

“Couch.” 

Yuri was up in a flash and he vaulted over the coffee table, practically crashing into Flynn who steadied him even as Yuri shifted and settled, trying to find a comfortable position straddling Flynn’s lap. Flynn nuzzled into the open collar of Yuri’s shirt, breathing him in, and was only too happy to oblige when Yuri lifted his chin to kiss him hungrily.

“Missed you,” Flynn murmured between kisses.

Yuri’s response to that was to try to keep his mouth occupied with kissing rather than talking. It usually only kept Flynn quiet half the time, but he figured he owed Yuri for having acted like a child, so he didn’t try to speak again, concentrating instead on the press of lips and slide of tongues, the sloppy wet warmth of the kiss and Yuri’s weight pushing down on him. He wrapped his arms around Yuri, holding him as tightly as he could, clinging to him as Yuri spread his legs a little wider, sinking down to increase the contact between them and rolling his hips, making Flynn moan.

He wanted Yuri’s jeans gone, wanted him stripped and ready, but things were moving too fast and he was supposed to be making up for overreacting the other day. He pushed Yuri back a little and ducked his head to kiss along his neck until he reached the spot that always made Yuri go a little weak in the knees—not that Yuri would ever admit it. He felt Yuri slump against him, felt the vibration of his voice as he moaned approvingly while Flynn marked him.

Yuri’s hips twitched under Flynn’s hands, seeking movement, contact, friction. It was the work of a moment for Flynn to pop the button of his jeans and unzip them, then he was touching Yuri, stroking him through the thin fabric of his boxers as Yuri groaned and rocked forward.

“This will be easier if you get off my lap.” He helped Yuri settle himself against the arm of the couch, then pulled his boxers out of the way and picked up with mouth and tongue where he had left off.

“Fuck.” Yuri’s knuckles went white with the force of his grip on the cushions and he arched his neck and moaned as Flynn’s head bobbed between his legs. Flynn hadn’t known the first thing about this when they’d first started going out, but he’d learned quickly and, if the sounds Yuri was making were any indication, he’d gotten damn good at it.

He tried to draw it out, pulling back when it felt like Yuri was close, teasing with breaths and kisses until Yuri started swearing at him. He knew if he kept it up long enough he could get Yuri to beg, but he didn’t want to do that, at least not yet, so he ducked his head and took the length of him in, working with lips and tongue and throat until Yuri climaxed with a shout and sagged into the cushions.

Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Flynn sat back. “The lube is in my room. You aren’t going to fall asleep while I go get it, are you?”

“Fuck that. We’ll finish in my room and then you can get the fuck out so I can sleep.”

“My bed’s bigger, and it’s not like you need to leave afterward.”

“Fine, but you better not wake me up in the middle of the night.”

“I think that’s my line.”

\------------------------

The next morning, Flynn woke up and was disappointed, though not altogether surprised, to find himself alone in his bed. He sat up and stretched, wincing a bit. For someone who’d claimed to be tired, Yuri had been remarkably energetic last night. Something smelled like cinnamon, so he got up and pulled on a clean pair of boxers and a button down, then went to see what was cooking. 

Yuri was standing over the stove. He’d put on Flynn’s turtleneck from yesterday. It was a little big on him through the shoulders and something about the sight of him just then went straight to Flynn’s heart. He came up behind Yuri and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, burying his face against Yuri’s neck.

“I’m trying to make us breakfast.” He didn’t shrug Flynn off or push him away, though, just went on with what he was doing, dipping bread into a mixture of eggs and cinnamon, then frying up the slices of French toast one by one in the pan.

“Sure you didn’t add too much cinnamon?” Flynn murmured.

“No such thing.” Using the spatula, he cut a strip off one of the finished pieces and held it up. “Taste.”

Without unwinding his arms from around Yuri’s shoulders, Flynn stretched forward and took a bite. It was good. Yuri popped the rest of the piece into his mouth.

“Get some plates and syrup out, would you? It’ll be ready in a minute.”

Reluctantly, Flynn let him go to do as he was told. “Today is one of your long days, right?”

“My afternoon classes don’t meet on Fridays, so I’ll probably come back for a nap between jobs.”

Flynn nodded as he set the table. “Yuri?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve got dibs on your next day off.”

“Sure. Just as long as you stay away from my spices.”


End file.
